Part 17 (2/2)

Judge M. W. Pinckney tells the story of a coloured man, Sam Jones by name, who was on trial at Dawson City, for felony. The judge asked Sam if he desired the appointment of a lawyer to defend him. ”No, sah,” Sam replied, ”I'se gwine to throw myself on the ignorance of the cote.”

A Southern lawyer tells of a case that came to him at the outset of his career, wherein his princ.i.p.al witness was a negro named Jackson, supposed to have knowledge of certain transactions not at all to the credit of his employer, the defendant. ”Now, Jackson,” said the lawyer, ”I want you to understand the importance of telling the truth when you are put on the stand. You know what will happen, don't you, if you don't tell the truth?”--”Yessir,” was Jackson's reply; ”in dat case I expects our side will win de case.”

When Senator Taylor was Governor of Tennessee, he issued a great many pardons to men and women confined in penitentiaries or jails in that State. His reputation as a ”pardoning Governor” resulted in his being besieged by everybody who had a relative incarcerated. One morning an old negro woman made her way into the executive offices and asked Taylor to pardon her husband, who was in jail. ”What's he in for?” asked the Governor. ”Fo' nothin' but stealin' a ham,” explained the wife. ”You don't want me to pardon him,” argued the Governor. ”If he got out he would only make trouble for you again.”--”'Deed I does want him out ob dat place!” she objected. ”I needs dat man.”--”Why do you need him?”

inquired Taylor, patiently. ”Me an' de chillun,” she said, seriously, ”needs another ham.”

Etiquette in the matter of dress was, in early days, of little or no consequence with American lawyers, especially in the Southern States. In South Carolina this neglect of the rigid observance of English rules on the part of Mr. Petigru, a well-known barrister, gave rise to the following pa.s.sage between the Bench and the Bar.

”Mr. Petigru,” said the judge, ”you have on a light coat. You can't speak.”

”May it please the Bench,” said the barrister, ”I conform strictly to the law. Let me ill.u.s.trate. The law says the barrister shall wear a black gown and coat, and your honour thinks that means a black coat?”

”Yes,” said the judge.

”Well, the law also says the sheriff shall wear a c.o.c.ked hat and sword.

Does your honour hold that the sword must be c.o.c.ked as well as the hat?”

He was permitted to go on.

In the United States, as elsewhere, the average juryman is not very well versed in the fine distinctions of the law. On these it is the judge's duty to instruct him. What guidance the jury got from the explanation of what const.i.tutes murder is not quite clear to the lay mind, however satisfactory it may have appeared to the judge.

”Gentlemen,” he stated, with admirable lucidity, ”murder is where a man is murderously killed. The killer in such a case is a murderer. Now, murder by poison is just as much murder as murder with a gun, pistol, or knife. It is the simple act of murdering that const.i.tutes murder in the eye of the law. Don't let the idea of murder and manslaughter confound you. Murder is one thing; manslaughter is quite another. Consequently, if there has been a murder, and it is not manslaughter, then it must be murder. Don't let this point escape you.”

”Self-murder has nothing to do with this case. According to Blackstone and other legal writers, one man cannot commit _felo-de-se_ upon another; and this is my opinion. Gentlemen, murder is murder. The murder of a brother is called fratricide; the murder of a father is called parricide, but that don't enter into this case. As I have said before, murder is emphatically murder.”

”You will consider your verdict, gentlemen, and make up your minds according to the law and the evidence, not forgetting the explanation I have given you.”

There is a delightful frankness about the address submitted to the electors by a candidate who solicited their support for the position of sheriff in one of the provinces of the United States, but its honesty cannot be questioned:

”Gentlemen, I offer myself a candidate for sheriff; I have been a revolutionary officer; fought many b.l.o.o.d.y battles, suffered hunger, toil, heat; got honourable scars, but little pay. I will tell you plainly how I shall discharge my duty should I be so happy as to obtain a majority of your suffrages. If writs are put into my hands against any of you, I will take you if I can, and, unless you can get bail, I will deliver you over to the keeper of the gaol. Secondly, if judgments are found against you, and executions directed to me, I will sell your property as the law directs, without favour or affection; if there be any surplus money, I will punctually remit it. Thirdly, if any of you should commit a crime (which G.o.d forbid!) that requires capital punishment, according to law, I will hang you up by the neck till you are dead.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: RUFUS CHOATE, LEADER OF THE Ma.s.sACHUSETTS BAR.]

Rufus Choate was designated _the_ leader of the Ma.s.sachusetts Bar--a distinctive t.i.tle which long outlived him and marked the sense of esteem in which he was held by his brother lawyers, as well as indicating his outstanding ability and success.

In 1841 a divorce case was tried in America, and a young woman named Abigail Bell was the chief witness of the adultery of the wife. Sumner, for the defence, cross-examined Abigail. ”Are you married?”--”No.”--”Any children?”--”No.”--”Have you a child?” Here there was a long pause, and then at last the witness feebly replied, ”Yes.” Sumner sat down with an air of triumph. Rufus Choate was advocate for the husband, who claimed the divorce, and after enlarging on other things, said, ”Gentlemen, Abigail Bell's evidence is before you.” Raising himself proudly, he continued, ”I solemnly a.s.sert there is not the shadow of a shade of doubt or suspicion on that evidence or on her character.” Everybody looked surprised, and he went on: ”What though in an unguarded moment she may have trusted too much to the young man to whom she had pledged her untried affections; to whom she was to be wedded on the next Lord's Day; and who was suddenly struck dead at her feet by a stroke of lightning out of the heavens!” This was delivered with such tragic effect that Choate, majestically pausing, saw the jury had taken the cue, and he went on triumphantly to the end. He afterwards told his friends that he had a right to make any supposition consistent with the witness's innocence.

A client went to consult him as to the proper redress for an intolerable insult and wrong he had just suffered. He had been in a dispute with a waiter at the hotel, who in a paroxysm of rage and contempt told the client ”to go to ----.” ”Now,” said the client, ”I ask you, Mr. Choate, as one learned in the law, and as my legal adviser, what course under these circ.u.mstances I ought to take to punish this outrageous insult.”

Choate looked grave, and told the client to repeat slowly all the incidents preceding this outburst, telling him to be careful not to omit anything, and when this was done Choate stood for a while as if in deep thought and revolving an abstruse subject; he then gravely said: ”I have been running over in my head all the statutes of the United States, and all the statutes of the commonwealth of Ma.s.sachusetts, and all the decisions of all the judges in our Courts therein, and I may say that I am thoroughly satisfied that there is nothing in any of them that will require you to go to the place you have mentioned. And if you will take my advice then I say decidedly--_don't go_.”

Choate defended a blacksmith whose creditor had seized some iron that a friend had lent him to a.s.sist in the business after a bankruptcy. The seizure of the iron was said to have been made harshly. Choate thus described it: ”He arrested the arm of industry as it fell towards the anvil; he put out the breath of his bellows; he extinguished the fire upon his hearthstone. Like pirates in a gale at sea, his enemies swept everything by the board, leaving, gentlemen of the jury, not so much--not so much as a horseshoe to nail upon the doorpost to keep the witches off.” The blacksmith, sitting behind, was seen to have tears in his eyes at this description, and a friend noticing it, said, ”Why, Tom, what's the matter with you? What are you blubbering about?”--”I had no idea,” said Tom in a whisper, ”that I had been so abominably ab-ab-bused.”

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